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I scowl at the ship.
I go the opposite direction.
But the walls keep shifting and changing until I see the night sky through an exit ahead of me. I was certain I wasn’t anywhere close to the hatch, but the aurora borealis is unmistakable, dragging me out into the night air.
I stumble into the grass and take a deep breath, leaning back against Jaya’s hull. I’m nowhere near the hatch—and thus, I’ve discovered yet another strange facet of traveling aboard azephtan. It appears Jaya can let me go wherever she wants.
I don’t like the idea of that. She could drop me off in the middle of transdimensional space without a second thought.
A whistling sound captures my attention and I snap my head toward it. It almost sounds like a shot, without the dull thud of kinetic energy that would accompany any Lyran weapon. As my vision adjusts to the light, I make out a tall and slim form with a shock of short white hair, gaze trained on the horizon.
I move toward him, narrowing my eyes. It has to be Reza K’lyr; there are very few Lyra with that shade of violet scales, and I haven’t met any others on this planet or on Jaya. Reza’s eyes slide toward me as I walk closer, still feeling too hot and too strange for present company.
“Guardsman,” he says, tilting his chin.
“Commander.”
“I don’t go by that title anymore,” he says. “People just call me Reza now.”
He fires his weapon at a target a good distance away. The device is held on his wrist, and appears to be a Skoropi invention—or perhaps human. It’s hard to tell with our species sharing so much technology.
“The rank and file on Logos still have much respect for you,” I say. “You’re a hero…or a villain, depending on who you ask.”
“I appreciate your candor,” he says. He loads the crossbow, fires it again. He hits the target every time. “And what are your thoughts?”
“My aunt says you saved her life.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I roll my shoulders. “In this case, discretion might be wise.”
He barks out a laugh.
“I am…lucky,” he says. “And unlucky at the same time.”
I hum under my breath in an attempt to make Reza think I know what he means. His golden eyes slide back toward me, and he holsters his weapon with a sigh. “Mai will kill me if I don’t talk to you.”
“What?” I ask.
He crosses his arms and lifts his chin, his eyes flashing. The man is still in his prime—forty-five or so, if the data is correct—but I can see the signs of premature aging under his eyes. His skin is crinkled and dry, and his scales lack a certain luster. He gives the impression of being taller than me, but I think that, in reality, he’s about my height.
People with stories like this are larger than life.
“What’s on your mind?” he asks.
“On my…what?”
“It’s a human figure of speech,” he explains. “You’d best learn them; I can imagine you’ll be spending a lot of time with them moving forward.”
This is the most I’ve ever heard this man speak. I just wish I could figure out what he’s speakingabout. “I don’t understand…”
“Humans have this way of pulling you in,” he says. “No matter how much you fight it, no matter how hard you try to resist…they’ll pull you in.”
Heat flares in a wave across my scales at the memory of Frankie and Taraven making love. I’m not stupid, no matter how much I wish I was. I know exactly what he’s talking about.
“It isn’t what you suggest,” I mutter.
“You aren’t on Logos anymore, Malix,” he says. “You’relightyears away. Live a little.”
